


Killing the Operators

by Laurincia



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Cancer, Death, Electrocution, Infection, Kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other things having to do with the event, Pain, Terminal Illnesses, Torture, outbreak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurincia/pseuds/Laurincia
Summary: Join me in my quest to kill each and every operator in the gameI'm sorryI love them         swear





	1. Rook

**Author's Note:**

> Rook dies first, I'm sorry <3  
> Thank you to my various friends for helping me write the majority of it

Gustave remembered when it all started a month ago, the lapses in judgment, lost time,  _ everything _ . He just blames himself for not realizing it sooner. For fucks sake, he is a  _ doctor _ . He remembered when Julian had mistaken James for Mark. Needless to say, the two Brits weren’t happy about it. Gustave knew of the headaches that Julien used to complain about frequently, or how he becomes more of a clusterfuck than he already was, accidentally knocking things over, being unable to stand straight, and just being tired in general. He should have seen it earlier. He should have  _ known  _ earlier. Gilles and Emmanuelle raised their concern with Julien but the stubborn young man just regarded this whole ordeal as exhaustion. He always said that few good hours of sleep would solve everything. It didn’t. The symptoms just started getting worse, and worse, day, by day. Julien couldn’t stop vomiting one day. Giles had insisted Julien go see Gustave about his symptoms. He didn’t. Julien had forgotten about training some recruits. He  _ never _ forgets, and yet, he did. Julien couldn’t even lift weights at one point. Something he could normally do in his sleep was just impossible. Gustave finally snapped and forced Julien into an examination room when he collapsed in the mess hall. 

 

When Julien was finally diagnosed with brain cancer, he thought it as a cruel joke from Gustave. As he finally wrapped his head around the reality, the dumbfounded smile was wiped off and he began to panic. His life, his future, and everything he held dear would be over in few months, and no amount of ceramic plates could protect him from the inevitable death. The process of preparing for a death of a loved one is always hard. This was no exception for the operators of the Rainbow, even though they face the danger of mortality every day. His peers left their condolences and shared his grief and anguish but that is nothing compared to the one who is facing the death himself. Gustave’s heart tore as he witnessed the sickness sucking every ounce of liveliness from the formerly vivacious young man. 

He remembers it clearly. Julien’s sad eyes, that were once bright and brilliant blue, now dull and glossed over, as he smiled sadly. “Please Doc, be the one to end me. Don’t let me die like this.” He couldn’t. Gustave physically couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t kill his teammate,  _ his friend _ . But he didn’t want to see him suffer either, being ripped apart by the cruel disease. But he couldn’t sit there and watch it happen. He asked Mike what he should do that night.

“The best would be euthanasia,” Mike replies and gulps a hard chunk of sorrow. “At least he won’t be suffering too much.” 

“Monsieur!” Gustave yells at the older in disbelief.

“Don’t look at me like that. I saw my share of fallen comrades dying while being amputated or due to heavy loss of blood. They tried. We all tried to get them back but most of them died in agony that they didn’t deserve.” 

Gustave remembers walking in on Julien in the bathroom, leaning over the ceramic sink, coughing up blood staining the pristine white a dark red. Julien tried to stand and propped himself up to look at the mirror. Gustave saw his reflection. A pale face, sunken eyes along with dark circles that were even more prominent than ever before. He almost couldn’t recognize his own teammate. Julien let himself slide down to the floor as his vision blurred. Gustave quickly ran over to help him back to his bed. “Please, Gustave. I don’t want to die like this,” Julien muttered. Gustave let Julien put nearly all his weight on him as he helped Julien back onto his bed. “Is that what you want?” Gustave asked. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it. 

Julien nodded as he crawled onto the bed. 

Gustave sighed sadly. It was the only other thing to do. He couldn’t let Julien suffer. He slowly walked over to the medical cabinet. He put on some gloves and took out a small clear bottle along with a wrapped syringe. Tearing away the wrapper, Gustave put in the needle and inserted it into the top of the bottle, turned it upside down, and pulled the plunger, filling the syringe with the clear liquid death. Never before had Gustave thought that he would need to use it, on a  _ friend _ , nonetheless. He walked back to Julien with a solemn expression. “You sure?” Gustave asked once more. 

Julien nodded slowly. 

If it’s what he wants, then Gustave will do it. For Julien. Gustave took a hold of one of the ports connecting his hand to the iv drip and inserted the needle. He gave Julien one last look, one last chance to pull back, but Julien just nodded, smiling. As Gustave pushed the plunger, his heart sank along with it. He hated that his hands were steady. He hated that his doctor instinct overpowered natural human reactions. 

“Thank you, mon ami,” Julien said quietly. And just like that, Julien slipped away. Gustave started sobbing as the heart rate monitor next to Julien slowed to a stop.  _ Flatlined _ . Julien is dead. His  _friend_ is dead. 


	2. Thatcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling kinda sad and wrote this :))))  
> Thank you to Umami/Doc for beta reading it <3

A swift, hard punch landed itself in Mike’s abdomen, knocking the air out of him. He doubled over and coughed, leaning forward as much as he could, being tied down to a chair. The zip ties around his wrists dug into his skin. He wheezed and struggled to regain some semblance of breath. A man in leaf litter camo pants and a faded green hoodie bent down and stared at MIke. That familiar white mask stared back at him, unmoving, unblinking. The man behind the mask chuckled and placed a gloved hand on Mike’s knee. “This can all stop if you tell us what we need to hear,” he said. 

Mike coughed and glared at him. “Go fuck yourself.” 

The Mask clicked his tongue and stood up, walking circles around Mike. Another Mask entered the room, pushing a two-level warehouse cart with loud, squeaky wheels. Various tools and items were on the cart. Mask Two stopped next to Mike and stepped back for Mask One. He took a hammer off the cart and juggled it around, staring at Mike. He could see his eyes through the small slits in the mask, dark, cold, and  _ evil _ . The Mask raised the hammer and brought it down on Mike’s knee. Mike didn’t know what came first, the sound of bone breaking, or his agonizing scream that rang through his own ears. Heavy, labored breathing followed. “I’ll ask you again,” Mask started. “Where is your base of operations?” 

Mike drew in a shuddery breath. “Fuck you.” 

Mask hummed and placed the hammer back on the cart. Mike tried to avoid looking at his leg. He could feel the blood running down it. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest. The adrenaline started numbing the pain, but it wasn’t going to last for long. Mask picked another thing up and turned something on. The familiar hum of electricity coming from a car battery. He held two jumper cables in his hands and struck them together. Bright orange sparks flew out and fell to the cement ground before fizzling out. Mask chuckled and slowly walked forward, occasionally striking the two clamps together. “You sure you don’t want to tell me anything? Like who’s in your little squad, where your base is, how you’re getting all this information on us, anything that would benefit us, honestly.” 

“Yeah, alright. I’ll tell ya somethin’,” Mike whispered. His leg was still throbbing and his heart racing. 

Mask leaned forward. “Finally cracking? Do tell.” 

“Go fuck yourself.” Mike could tell the Mask was fuming underneath and smirked. 

“Didn’t want it to be this way, old man.” Mask’s tone was cold, dark. He picked up a Glock from the cart and pulled back the slide. “Plated hollow point bullet. I’m sure you know what these do, right, old man?” Mask asked. He didn’t need a response to know the answer. Mask pressed the barrel of the gun against Mike’s left shoulder. “Want to say anything?” 

“Your zipper’s down.”

“I guess you really can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Mask muttered to no one in particular. He pulled the trigger and Mike jolted back, screaming. The bullet hit bone, no doubt about it. He didn’t want to move to find out the answer. His vision was getting blurry again. 

“I tried being nice, ya know?” Mask shrugged, placing the Glock back on the cart. “But you’re being a such a stubborn little shit!” He struck the two jumper cables together again and pressed the red one against Mike’s open leg wound. Instantly, pain flooded his system. The electricity coursing through his muscles forced him to tense up. Mike couldn’t even scream. Mask pulled back the clamp and studied Mike. The smell of scorched flesh made its way to Mike’s nostrils as he tried to regain control of his body, still tense and shaking from the shock. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of anti-electronics expert?” Mask asked smugly. Mask pressed the clamp down again, digging deeper. Every part of Mike was on fire. He was pressed up against the chair, tense and unbreathing. Mask started moving the clamp around, opening it and closing the clamp around some exposed flesh. He turned off the car battery and let Mike breathe. “Still up for more?” Mask asked. 

Mike went limp and let his body slouch forward. The clamp was still in his leg, digging into his flesh. Mike wondered how much blood he’s lost. If the dark red coating his clothing and floor along with blurry vision was anything to go by, he’s lost a lot. Who knows, maybe Mask would get careless and let him bleed out. Mask picked up something shiny and snapped his fingers in front of Mike’s face. “Wakey wakey, my fun ain’t over.” He had put on some brass knuckles. Mask pushed Mike back into the chair and dug his other hand into his shoulder wound. It hurt, but Mike didn’t even have the strength to react. Mask pulled his fist back and brought it down onto Mike’s ribs. Doubling over as much as he could with Mask holding him back, Mike coughed. His ribs broke, no doubt. He tasted the familiar copper in his mouth again. 

Gunshots were heard from above. Mask glanced up and clicked his tongue. “Deal with it!” He barked orders to Mask Two, who had still been standing there the whole time. Two scrambled for the metal door, swinging it open. Another gunshot rang out, echoing off the walls and floors of the reinforced room. Two’s body slumped to the ground with a hole blown through his skull. “Shit!” Mask One yelled, picking up the Glock from the cart, aiming it at the door. Another gunshot rang out, and Mask fell to the cement floor, staining it red. “Took you bloody blokes long enough,” Mike rasped out. He knew they’d find him soon. Mike was kidnapped at his doorstep, the various cameras and alarm systems have to have sent some distress signal. 

Fast footsteps made their way to Mike. Something about medical attention was yelled. “Fuck, I'm sorry we took so long, but I got you now, everything is going to be okay.” 

Mike didn’t want to say anything, but it wasn’t okay. He’s been bleeding for far too long. The zip ties around Mike’s wrist were cut and he winced as his damaged shoulder moved. The clamp on his leg was taken off with care, and it was just now that Mike saw who it was. It was Jordan. His goggles were pulled down and dangling around his neck. Worried hazel eyes bore into Mike. “Stay with me, Thatcher,” Jordan helped Mike stand. “You’ll be fine, I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” Jordan whispered, pulling out his pistol. He walked slowly and lead Mike through the compound. Blood splatters and bodies were everywhere. Mike tried to stay up, but he was just too tired. His leg gave out and fell. Jordan held his ground and kept Mike upright. Mike coughed up more blood and told Jordan to stop. He quickly rounded a corner and helped Mike sit down. “I’m not going to make it, Jordan,” Mike muttered. 

“No, you’re going to be fine, I’m going to get you out of here!” 

Mike chuckled. Jordan was always stubborn. Mike reached out and held Jordan’s face with his bloody hands. “Listen. I’ve lost too much blood, I’m not going to make it. Get out of here while you can, and bomb the shit out of this compound, you understand?” Mike asked. 

Jordan’s eyes started glossing over, welling up with tears. “No, I’m not going to leave you, you fucking asshole!” 

Mike sighed. Everything was blurry and echoey. He didn’t have long. “Please, leave. Go without me.” 

A tear fell from Jordan’s eyes and he shook his head. “ _ No, _ we need you.”

Mike tightened his grip as best he could and shook Jordan a bit before pushing him away. “ _ Go. _ ” Mike smiled sadly. It was time. “Give them hell.” His arms dropped to his sides. It was getting harder to breathe by the second. 

“No! Thatcher! Stay with me, you asshole!” Jordan yelled. His voice started blurring together. Mike couldn’t hear coherent words. He was tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')


	3. Buck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to start as regular angst for a pairing or something but it slowly (not really, it quickly fell downhill [hah] from there)

His fingers wrapped around the barrel of his assault rifle, carefully reloading, as he repressed a shiver. It was cold, painfully so. Thick, white snow crunched underneath his weight. Mountains have always had a sense of danger, complete with landslides, difficult to navigate terrain, even more so as it was highly susceptible to avalanches. Sébastien clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to get blood flowing, to regain feeling in his limbs. The numbing was concerning, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. Snow had found its way into his thick jacket. It melted from his body heat, forming cold wet patches all around. He could see his breath every time he exhaled, the vapors stuck on the inside of the mask covering his face. There was a dull throbbing somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. Pulsating pain started spreading outwards from his abdomen, matching the throb in his head. It was warm, sticky even. Looking back, Sébastien spotted the bodies of the white masks he had killed. Red blood pooled around them, seeping into the snow. Deep lines cut through the white powder, a trail of heavy bootprints leading straight to him. He couldn’t find the energy to lift his legs. It was getting colder by the second.

 

Daylight was fading, the cold was seeping through, gnawing away at his bones. Sébastien doesn’t know how far he fell, or how far he trudged forward, how long it had been since, but he found a small opening against the cliffside, enough cover to stay the night. The pain was spreading, red hot now, almost overcoming the freeze. He sat down on the snow, curling into a ball with his back against the icy cliffside. Nearly a day. His jacket was constricting. Warm, yet constricting. It was hard to breathe. Wincing, Sébastien straightened his legs, stretching out in front of him, resting on the white snow. He placed his rifle down next to him and unzipped his jacket with shaky hands. Dark red blood pooled, staining his thin hoodie he wore underneath. Without his jacket hugging his torso, the blood flowed much quicker. It wasn’t long now. How long until he’s found? A few minutes? Hours? Weeks? Sébastien wouldn’t last that long. He was shot during his confrontation with the white masks, no doubt. He didn’t know why he didn’t realize sooner. He slumped down lower, making himself comfortable in the small cave. His blood soaked through his hoodie, spilling out onto the white snow beneath him. He exhaled slowly.

 

_It was a dangerous mission to begin with, scaling a mountain for what seemed like a wild goose chase. It was him, Ryad, Timur, Monika, and Craig. It was a reconnaissance mission, only get as close as you need to be, study the enemy, get a grip and general idea of their motives, plans, patterns, anything. The path was worn down, narrow, covered in snow. It could barely even be considered a path. A half stable mound of snow that could hardly hold more than one hundred pounds was more accurate. They took their time crossing to and from the narrow path. One would brave it across with a paracord harness while the others held them steady, feeding the cord through until they made it all the way across. Craig had gone across the first time. While returning, Ryad volunteered. He was definitely slimmer than Craig, being able to walk the narrow path with relative ease. After getting a firm hold on the other side, Monika went next, using the paracord as a small guide for balance. She made it safely. Then it was Timur, leaving only Craig and Sébastien to hold onto the end of the cord, keeping it taut and as stable as it can be. Craig told Sébastien to go next, and he did. Same as the first time, slow and steady, keeping the cord to his right, the side that wasn’t pressing against the cliffside. It was a long fall, powder snow blew with turbulent winds, getting angrier by the second. The jagged mountainside did nothing to slow the winds. He was a few feet away from Ryad who held out a hand. Sébastien reached out with his left arm, keeping a tight grip on the paracord. The next few moments were tense, but they were clear. Cracking, screaming, the feeling of falling. The path collapsed underneath Sébastien. Nothing held up his right side and he tilted over. Their hands touched and Ryad tried pulling Sébastien back onto stable ground. The path crumbled, completely breaking away under Sébastien’s weight. He fell, hitting his head on the icy cliffside. The sheer force of the impact along with gravity was enough to tear him away from Ryad, and he fell. The last thing he remembered before sheer terror was Ryad, screaming his name._

 

It stopped hurting, and the cold stopped biting at his skin. He had sent a distress signal the second he could think straight. Hours had passed. They should be at his original location by now. Maybe they would find his trail, maybe he could be saved. Hope was fizzling out by the second, like the blood slowly oozing out of his body. He didn't know if he would freeze or bleed out first. Either way, he couldn't feel it. Fitting, a hunter built for concurring the elements, would be taken by the thing he had been accustomed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I killed my boy :')  
> Some real life physics might have been changed for the sake of sadness, like the time it would take for you to bleed out from a gunshot around your stomach, and falling about a hundred feet down a snowy mountain


	4. Jager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to contain spoilers for the Outbreak event coming soon

Marius thought the crash was it, that it was the end. Whatever that  _ thing _ was that made him crash, might still be out there, and he's lying on the cold tile on top of a pile of rubble, bleeding out, waiting for certain death. Something was different, but he couldn't place it. If felt as if something was crawling inside him, clawing, shredding,  _ destroying _ him from the inside. It itched. He couldn't speak, but he heard Jordan's panicked voice through his headset, telling him to stay calm, that help would be on the way soon. Something was changing. His throat tightened, His vision blurred, but he could still see. He could see the black and red mutations spread from his wound. He could feel his skin shifting, breaking, morphing into something like those  _ things _ out there. 

 

Gunshots, footsteps, silence, then stunned gasps. It hurt to move his head, but he could see the blurry figures of Timur, Gustave, and James standing in the doorway of the building, shining their flashlights at him with stunned expressions beneath their masks. Deep, dark thoughts clawed at the back of his mind, trying to take over, to become the dominant force controlling his body. Gustave ran over, shouting things that would have been comforting if the screaming in his ears stopped, no doubt. But they didn’t, and the glowing red spread further, to his arms, up his neck. Everyone could see. Everyone knew what was going to happen. They didn’t have the means to stop it. Not now, not yet. 

“-er? Ja-er! Can you hear me?” Gustave asked, carefully placing a hand on to Marius’ arm. 

**_Kill._ **

Marius screamed. Using the last of his energy, he shoved Gustave away. His hands flew to his head and grappled at his helmet, trying to take it off, trying to get the voices to stop. He felt his back split open along his spine, with those glowing black and red spikes sprouting out, shredding his skin. He heard someone shout an expletive from afar. 

**_Kill._ **

He screamed again, dropping down to all fours, ramming his head onto the tiled floor, cracking his helmet. Looking up again, he could see the horrified looks on his friend’s faces, the looks of sheer terror. Shards of glass were broken all around him, and Marius could see his reflection in the pieces of glass. His broken helmet revealed glowing red eyes. Long, pointed  _ appendages _ sprouted from his back, all connected to him, staying still yet trembling with anticipation, like attack dogs waiting for their command to pounce, for their leashes to be released. A crack and the appendages stuck into the ground, easily piercing through the tile and cement underneath. He slowly turned his gaze to focus on Gustave. He was sitting down, leaning on his arms, slowly crawling away from Marius with that same horrified expression on his face. His legs felt stiff, yet they moved with ease. His mind was a haze. He couldn’t think. He wasn’t in control. Marius lunged forward with incredible speed, instantly closing the ten-meter gap between him and the two operators still standing by the door, with the appendages pushing off and out the ground for more force. Two of the limbs flew forward, stopping mere centimeters from Timur’s and James’ necks. The two tried raising their guns but stopped the second they realized. Marius’ mouth opened and let out a low, guttural growl that echoed throughout the whole building, sending shivers down their spines. He turned his head to look at Timur. Fear was imminent in his expression, regardless of whether or not part of his face was covered with his mask. 

**_Kill them._ **

Marius fought the idea, regardless of how  _ delectable _ that idea seemed. His hands flew to his helmet again and the limbs dropped to the ground, snaking around his legs and arms, wrapping around them, hot and pulsating. He let out a shaky breath and dropped to his knees. “ _ Please _ , kill me before I kill you,” Marius forced out, punching the tile. A spiderweb of cracks exploded from the center. Those same black and red spikes sprouted up from the broken tile, spreading out to three more before stopping. His entire being trembled with unspent energy, just  _ vibrating _ , waiting to pounce. Timur swallowed audibly and took a step forward, taking out his pistol from his holster, pointing the barrel straight at Marius’ head. “We can find a way to reverse this,” Timur whispered. A snarl escaped Marius’ lips and one of the spikes unraveled itself from his arm, rushing forward, piercing through Timur’s arm with little to no effort and wrapped around, flinging Timur’s arm to the side, using the force to rip the pistol out of his hand. Another sharp movement to the side and the sound of breaking bone echoed through the building alongside a pained scream. 

“Marius!” Gustave shouted, alarmed. He got up off the floor and threw himself in front of him, using his body to block him from harming Timur further. “Marius, you can fight this, just listen to me, you will be alright, we will help you, we will fix you,” he said calmly, holding out a hand. 

Marius let out a loud laugh before taking a shuddery breath, looking up at the paneled ceiling. “Who are you?” He asked slowly. The infection spread further, reaching his face, discoloring the pale skin into a dull, pasty gray, highlighting his veins a glowing red. Another deep, disconnected chuckle “He’s already gone. You were all too late.” 

The limb still stuck in Timur’s arm tore itself out, lunging at James. The three didn’t hesitate anymore. Bullets flew around the building, all trying to hit a target that raced around the gunfire like it was a cat chasing a laser sight,  _ impossible.  _ Whatever Marius became was too agile for conventional means. James pulled out his one last remaining canister and threw it into the center of the building, detonating. As if it was calculated, Marius landed in the center of the cloud of smoke, doubling over the second he made contact, coughing violently. James reloaded his pistol and aimed at the center, at the glowing red mass that was spreading. A step forward and Marius propelled himself out of the smoke. He James' hand with a bone-crushing grip, tackling the smaller Brit to the floor. James’ head hit the tile with a loud thump. The extra limbs sprouting from Marius’ back buried themselves into the tile around James’ head. Cold, blood red eyes burned into James’ soul. 

“Marius,” James started, taking a breath. He gasped when the grip around his hand tightened. The pistol was still pointed at Marius’ head. “Come back to us.”

Silence fell around like a heavy blanket. Marius slowly moved his thumb to James trigger finger and pushed down. A gunshot, panicked screams, and a body hitting a floor sounded off at different intervals. The voices were gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love them I swear


End file.
